Heathens
by switchbladesweetie
Summary: The Joker never had any trouble knocking the competition down a peg, but these girls were trying his patience. Everytime he seemed to get rid of one another one popped up at his doorstep more eager than the last. The one with the scars was really starting to grow on him. I added a Dark Knight version of Harley for some extra pazazzz


**This story was originally posted in 2011 on an old Quotev account. I'm reposting now with little to no changes and I'm going to try and build off whatever storyline I had planned but never wrote down ahaha.**

Although Arkham City had been officially shut down the streets were still crawling with miscreants and those who didn't want to be found. The narrows weren't discrete enough for big operations anymore, every cop under the sun knew exactly where your shipments were headed, where your contraband was stored and worst of all they knew where you were hiding. So for the first time in years Arkham City streets were alive but with a new kind of life.

The island flourished out of sight of the mainland. Infrastructure was funded, businesses opened and crime rates tripled uninhibited by the law. Warehouse were transformed into DIY mansions for the rich and infamous. My sisters and I had been saved by God and re-birthed anew. We had a chance to start over and make something of ourselves. They say Rome wasn't built in a day but it seemed Arkham was.

We were his and he was ours and no one laid a hand on us as long as he wore his mark. No one would dare. But then there was the king, the crown prince of crime himself, The Joker. He'd had the nerve to have Snap roughed up for getting too close to his turf. When she all but crawled her way back to us she carried a note that read "Keep your pet nut on a tighter leash or she might go missing".

He didn't like that at all. So I was let out for the first time in months, allowed to stretch my legs. And now I sat perched on a fire escape. Watching as little miss Harley Quinn all but skipped down the street with a brown paper bag of groceries in her hands. Boy was Puddin' gonna be pissed.

Harley halted in her steps and turned to peer down the shady alley way, my quiet laughter echoing off the walls, "Hello, Who's there?" I lept down onto the concrete causing my chains to rattle. She started to back away from the opening of the alley as I sauntered toward her.

"Do you think it's funny to beat up little girls," my tone was menacing, cutting through the ambiance like an axe. She stood frozen until I lunged at her and slashed at the air trying to scare her. She threw her groceries at me and sprinted off down the street.

"My Puddin' is going to KILL YOU," She shrieked over her shoulder as she jumped over parked cars and zigzagged across the street. I easily caught up too her cornering her against a fence. I straightened to my full height, towering above her, watching as she scampered over the fence.

"Oh come back little clown I was just starting to have some fun," I bounded over the fence and slammed her into the pavement. She tried to claw at my face and clothes, I clasped both of her hands above her head and leant my forehead against hers, "You're in so much trouble."

"HELP ME" With a hand clasped over her mouth I whispered, "sh sh shhhhhh" Her eyes darted frantically tears dripping down her cheeks. "No one can hear you scream" Harley only now took in my full appearance, the marring on my skin was a mistake he had tried to hide by keeping me locked up.

Her insistent struggling was futile under my weight. A new wave of laughter wracked my body as I collapsed on her, pinning her down, "What do you want from me." She was crying now, the ugly kind of sobbing I bet she did when he Puddin ignored her.

"I don't want anything with you little clown," I screwed up my face and dragged her into a standing position, "But myyy Puddin' requested I fetch you and so here we are." I dug my claws into her flesh and dragged her away as she kicked and screamed.

In the early hours the next morning the Joker stood with a group of men in the middle of the street. A jar of coffee was shattered on the concrete. He crouched down on his haunches and picked up a piece of metal. A dog tag which read #001 Cackler.

He grit his teeth and punched the wall. That son of a bitch.


End file.
